Thankful for two who crossed my path this year

As I type this out on Thanksgiving Day, 2013, there are so many things in life for which I am thankful.

Like most, I am thankful for my family, for my health and for the many material blessings I have. The older I get, the more I reflect on those simple things every day I live.

This year, a couple of people gave me some unexpected blessings that have truly changed my outlook on life. I am not sure the persons even realized it when they made me sit back, think, and then act on what they said.

I have no idea if Clay Perkins and Duane Allen have ever crossed paths, but I am eternally grateful they intersected with my journey through life in 2013.

Clay Perkins is the president of my alma mater, Mid-Atlantic Christian University. When I graduated over 30 years ago, it was known as Roanoke Bible College and, admittedly, I have been out of the loop when it comes to the school's affairs over that time.

Mr. Perkins and I talked at length this summer when we were both attending the North American Christian Convention in Louisville. I had met him before and had somewhat stayed in contact through Facebook, but to say that we know each other well would be a stretch.

What he did know about me was that I had been in the located ministry for about 20 years and that I sometimes beat myself up for not being in the pulpit every Sunday now. He encouraged me to remember God's grace.

I try to do that every day, but it is easier said than done.

At the college's alumni reception that week, I took some photos and sent them to Mr. Perkins, along with one my wife snapped of Clay and me together. A few days later, that same photo turned up on Facebook with the simple caption, “One of our graduates who is serving as a sports writer.”

I felt like someone turned a light on.

For years, I had tried to make sure my writings had reflected my faith. When someone had given a quote with what I considered inappropriate language, I had always omitted that or simply summarized the thought without a quote. I tried to refrain from the personally destructive comments that seem to sell so well in the media today.

But “serving as a sports writer?” That opened my eyes that we can really make a difference in nearly any profession.

Not long after Mr. Perkins wrote that, I talked about some moral issues in published columns. A reader e-mailed me commenting on the “boldness” I had used in those writings.

Then, in early September, fear of legal action by the ACLU prompted a decision by the Anderson County Board of Education that resulted in the football coach not publicly praying with his team.

I was not happy with the decision, but was glad I was in a position to give Christians a voice in the local media.

Yes, it was service. Thank you, Mr. Perkins, for reminding me.

In August, I had the privilege to interview Duane Allen. If you listen to country or gospel music, you know Duane. He's been the lead singer of The Oak Ridge Boys since 1966. The group is one of the most beloved in American music history with hits like “Elvira” and “American Made.”

I had stumbled across a local connection to Duane Allen's mega-successful career, so I took a chance and requested an interview.

Mr. Allen graciously consented and personally made sure everything was set up to accommodate my hearing impairment, including a face-to-face interview instead of over the phone or via e-mail.

He suggested we meet a few hours before the Oaks took the stage for what has been an annual show at the Kentucky State Fair for nearly 40 years.

He even set it up for my wife to sit in on the interview. It was a lesson in giving of one's self.

We were expecting 15 minutes. He gave us 45.

And Duane Allen gave us more than his time. When he recounted the incredible story of how he ended up with The Oaks, he punctuated it saying, “I have always had faith.  This was just another example of how God works in my life and directing every step I take. I never had any doubts about God being in my life. It is just another example.”

When I asked about going from gospel music to country, he noted, "Everything we do is dedicated to God. I don't pick out certain things and dedicate them to God.  I dedicate every country song, Every song that has crossed over to rock-and-roll. Thank you Elvira. It helped me pay bills and make people happy.”

And later in the interview, Duane told me, “I didn't find God in country music. I just found He was already there. I want him in my life. I don't put conditions on where he goes.”

It sounds so simple and basic, yet it is something many of us, including me, struggle with on a daily basis. If you are a Christian, you are a Christian 24-7, no matter where you are. We can't just compartmentalize our relationship with God. Whether we are preachers, academicians, entertainers, factory works, writers or anything else, God is there.

Our relationship should be, too.

It is something I have known in my head for many years. I believe I finally understood it in my heart this summer.

And for that, I am thankful for crossing paths with Clay Perkins and Duane Allen.

Real-life questions about praying at the games

(This is my column in the Sept. 11 edition of The Anderson News. Quick background: the local football coaching staff was advised they could no longer be around during organized prayers following games or practices, even though they did not lead in them. The community of Lawrenceburg, Ky. was furious.   Here is my take on it.)

I have to make this column fit into about 650 words.

I could probably use 6,500. Or more.

In my 28-plus years of getting paid to write, I don't think I have ever seen a local display of pure emotion, of such anger, such frustration as I have seen around Lawrenceburg since the news broke last Wednesday that the Anderson County High School football coach Mark Peach and his coaching staff could no longer pray with the Bearcat team.

This is not simply an on-field disappointment. Those hurt for a few hours, maybe even a few days, but eventually all is fine and you just try to get better.

But to those who hold their religious faith close to their heart and wear it on their sleeve, this is about real life. It's more than stopping an opponent on fourth-and-1 inside the 10-yard-line and the outrage that many have expressed is understandable.

I believe the outrage is warranted. To whom it should be directed, however, is not clear.

I also know there are some who disagree, who feel the anger and frustration are misguided and that the decision to keep the coaching staff out of the team prayers was a good one.

Some thoughts...

First, Anderson County school superintendent Sheila Mitchell was caught in a no-win situation in this matter. She, like many other school districts in Kentucky, have received threats of litigation from the American Civil Liberties Union over the practice of the Gideons distributing Bibles in schools. The next obvious step would deal with prayers, even if they are student-led, when school personnel are present in official capacities.

Since Peach learned he would have to step away from his team's prayers or simply offer a moment of silence, there are many that are ready to fight the ACLU and stand up for what they believe to be their First Amendment rights. To do so would probably be a politically popular move.

However, a fight invites more litigation, which means thousands, maybe even millions of dollars in legal fees. Mitchell's decision, while not popular, was undoubtedly made with this in mind.

Secondly, the First Amendment says that government shall not establish religion, nor prohibit the free exercise thereof. I have been to every game Mark Peach has coached at Anderson County. While there is little doubt about his Christian world view, I have never seen him push his faith on anyone. For that matter, I have never seen him offer a prayer.

How a generic prayer is establishing religion is beyond me. The coaches are not coming around on Sunday and rounding up kids to go to church with them. They are not saying a kid must attend church to play linebacker. Are the coaches' rights being violated? I don't have the answer, but it is worth looking into.

Thirdly, kids have not been denied the right to pray. If a kid wants to pray and the desire was not the idea of a teacher, the kid can pray. Even the ACLU agrees on that.

Fourth, to make an issue of the way one prays is just sad. No other words are necessary.

Finally, the ACLU and similar groups like to use “tolerance” as a buzz word. Leslie Sparrow, of Anderson County, dropped me a note after Friday's game, asking the questions many are asking.

“Since when did tolerance become a one way street?” she wrote. “My kids have to be 'tolerant' of the kids they sit next to in class who refuse to stand for the flag because that is their 'right.' … When teachers speak of 'being made of stardust', my kids must be 'tolerant' and sit quietly. Oh, the list could continue. Where are my kids' rights? Who is 'tolerant' of their beliefs and allows them to express it?”

It's a question many want to ask when it seems like those who preach “tolerance” define that as simply agreeing with their positions.

Five-part harmony: Allen loves hoops, follows the Big Blue

(During my chat with Duane Allen, of the Oak Ridge Boys, we briefly talked about his passion for basketball. This also appeared in the Aug. 28 edition of The Anderson News.) 

Had Duane Allen not become a mega-success with The Oak Ridge Boys, chances are he would have become a highly-successful basketball coach at some level.

At least, that is how he had it planned.

“I get right into the very intracacies of coaching,” Allen said last week before taking the stage at the Kentucky State Fair. “I had dreamed when I was in school that I would be doing this until I got tired of it. I never dreamed it would last as long as it has.

Duane Allen, left, and William Lee Golden at the Ky. State Fair.

“I wanted to get an education degree so I could teach. I dreamed I would probably wind up in some school teaching music and coaching basketball. I love the game that much.”

Allen says as a high schooler in Texas, he was a 3-point shooter before there was a 3-point line. “It didn't mean any more than a layup then,” Allen chuckled.

The Kentucky Wildcats became one of his favorite basketball teams, a passion that was cemented over the years. “I have always loved Big Blue basketball,” Allen says. “My wife is from Kentucky (Bowling Green), my son-in-law is from Lexington. One of my children went to Kentucky for two years, one went for a year.”

Both eventually transferred to be closer to their Nashville home.

Allen's son, Dee, is a Nashville musician. Daughter Jamie is married to Paul Martin, who spent some time with the popular central Kentucky group, Exile, and now plays in country singer Marty Stuart's band.

For Duane Allen, the Big Blue roots run deep.

“My daughter was (former UK athletic director) C.M. Newton's secretary and worked in Rick Pitino's office when he was with the Big Blue,” Allen says, “so I went to a lot of Big Blue basketball games. I really like John Calipari. I met him when he was in Memphis.”

Allen, though, is a fan of many teams. He, and several other members of the Oak Ridge Boys, support Vanderbilt, the major college team in their adopted hometown.

The preferences of someone who has made a living singing four-part harmony should not come as a surprise. He loves five-part harmony on the hardwood.

“I love great basketball when it is taught as the game of life,” Allen says. “Of course you have to put the ball in the hoop, but you also teach the game of life like John Wooden taught (at UCLA). I am a fan of team basketball. Traditional basketball. I am not much of a fan of attitude players. They come and go and they come at every school. I am not putting my finger on one or another or talking about this one.”

Duane and Joe Bonall fist-bump during the singing of "Reach out and Touch a Hand."

Teams Allen follows sounds like the lineup of the most powerful names in college hoops history. Not only does he follow Kentucky, he mentioned North Carolina as another favorite along with a guy Cat fans love to despise.

“Indiana, when Bobby Knight was there,” Allen smiles. “I loved Bobby Knight, I don't care if he did throw a chair. I liked him because he built strong character in his players. I liked Arizona when Lute (Olsen) was out there. He had strong, strong teams and good people.

“I like Gonzaga right now. They have great basketball and teach them about the game of life and turn out good men.

“I like schools that turn out quality people with character. Basketball is not a game of how hot-shot you are. It is a game of skill. It is not how heavy you can knock somebody to the floor to shoot a layup.”

When done right, it's simply five-part harmony.

Going the extra mile is only natural for Oak Ridge Boy

(Note: One of the perks of my job as sports editor of The Anderson News is that I am often given the opportunity to sit down with interesting people. Occasionally, they are nationally famous. Such was the case when I was given the chance to interview one of the giants of the music industry, Duane Allen, of The Oak Ridge Boys, before the group's concert at the Kentucky State Fair. I found him to be even more engaging than I expected and one of the nicest people I have ever met. Here is that story, which appeared in the Aug. 28 edition of The Anderson News.)

Duane Allen has only one rule for fans getting his autograph.

Be polite.

“All they have to do is remember one simple phrase: Be polite,” the country and gospel music legend said last week. “Just be polite. Nobody likes somebody that is rude.”

Duane Allen interacts with fans at the Ky. State Fair.

After sitting down with Allen less than two hours before he and his fellow Oak Ridge Boys took the stage at the Kentucky State Fair, I can't imagine him being any other way.

I am sure he was the same way the night he touched down in Lawrenceburg 48 years ago.

Long before he had performed before presidential audiences and became a household name in country music, Duane Allen sang at the Lawrenceburg Fair.

An advertisement in The Anderson News of July 8, 1965 invited readers to hear one of the hottest gospel groups of the day, The Prophets, at the fair the following week. Their newest member was the 22-year-old Texan singing baritone.

Working his way through Texas A&M – Commerce, Allen graduated in January of 1965. “I got my first offer to sing with The Prophets in April. On my birthday, April 29, I had my first concert with The Prophets,” he says. “I sang with them for a year and that is when we came to Lawrenceburg.”

It would probably be a stretch to say Duane Allen remembers that date. But I was there. Allen's blue eyes lit up and a big smile crossed his face when I related to him how I can still remember my aunt, Myrtle Perry, being so excited to see the star of the show, Big Lew, The Prophets' tenor.

Duane Allen singing "I Get To."

“Big Lew Garrison was a wonderful person,” Allen recalled. “He was one of the funniest people I have ever met in my life. To work with him on the road was like working with a full-time comedian.

"Lew sang so high that we had to have somebody sing under him. Singing baritone for The Prophets was like singing lead for other groups.”

Allen, who had also worked as a minister of music in Paris, Texas for two years, thought he had arrived. He thought he'd sing gospel music for several years before settling down to teach music and coach basketball.

That, however, was before Uncle Sam set an incredible chain of events in motion that eventually took Allen to the top of the music industry: Duane Allen was drafted.

He resigned from The Prophets and sold his car. Despite telling Army doctors that he had been treated for a heart condition since he was 3-years-old, Allen passed all of his physicals and appeared headed straight for Vietnam.

But just before heading to Fort Polk, La., Allen was pulled out of the group of draftees. “The man told me, 'The fact that you have this condition and you have been treated for it, if we put you on the front line and if you had a flare-up, you could own the Army. We can't afford you. We have to give you a medical discharge and you will never be called again,” Allen says.
Without a car and 130 miles from home, Allen called his banker who agreed to cover the cost of a car and work out the details of repayment when he got a job. Knowing the Oak Ridge Boys had been pursuing him about an opening in their quartet, Allen purchased a 1966 Buick Riviera and headed straight to Nashville to see if the job was still available.

Joe, Duane, William Lee and Richard at the Ky. State Fair.

There were no cell phones. There was no e-mail. He just drove all night.

“I went into the Oak Ridge Boys' office and the secretary put the phone down. She walked back to where the other three (Willie Wynn, Herman Harper and current Oak William Lee Golden) were. They came back and said, 'What are you doing here? We thought you were in the Army.'”

After heading to a church and singing several songs, the group offered Allen a full partnership. It was only later that Allen learned the group had told the secretary to try to call him one more time. If that was not successful, the group was prepared to disband.

It all happened in a matter of days.

There's little doubt that Allen firmly believes the God he loves and worships was active. The obvious question is if Allen's deep faith was strengthened by how things transpired.

“I have always had my faith,” he says. “This was just another example of how God works in my life, directing every step I take.”

Over the years, Allen has seen the Oak Ridge Boys become one of the most beloved groups in American music history. The current lineup first performed together in October of 1973 and when they performed at the state fair last week, it was the 37^th straight year the Oaks have been in Louisville in late August.

This year's show was on the turf at Cardinal Stadium after the grandstand had been ruled unsafe and is being prepared for demolition.

“We've been around so long, we have outlived that stadium,” tenor Joe Bonsall quipped during the show.

It is a show that was two hours of high-octane energy that belies the fact that Allen, Golden and bass singer Richard Sterban have all celebrated their 70^th birthdays. During last week's show, I was seated near a man who had to be pushing 80 but was dancing with the Oaks. Behind me was a group of teenagers doing the same.

The music celebrates positive values, honors veterans and simply makes fans happy.

Duane Allen and the Oaks were commissioned Ky. Colonels

During the state fair show, a Kentucky State Trooper joined the Oaks on stage to present them with their commissions as Kentucky Colonels by Gov. Steve Beshear, who honored the group for their many humanitarian causes.

There is little question about the music's root. Country hits like “Dig A Little Deeper in the Well” and “Make My Life with You” have an unmistakeable gospel sound.

Even the group's megahit “Elvira” sounds like something that could be heard at an all-day-singing-and-dinner-on-the-ground.

“Some of the traditions in gospel music are wonderful,” Allen says. “I learned so much from gospel music. Our four-part harmony came from southern gospel music.

“I never really left gospel music. I just left the business. I have always loved gospel music and I still do. We just quit working the

business end of it.”

That happened in the late 1970's.

Still, every Oak Ridge Boys' show has a distinctive gospel flair. Last week, those songs included a rocking version of an old standard, “Where the Soul Never Dies” and an acapella rendition of “Amazing Grace” for an encore.

“I love gospel music,” Allen said. “It is my foundation. But it is not my goal to preserve gospel music or country music in its form. They are constantly changing. My goal is to keep the Oak Ridge Boys relevant, so when the cycle comes back around, to be relevant and include me again.”

Even though it has been years since they have had a huge hit, there is little question that the Oaks are relevant today.

During our time together, I found Duane Allen to be one deeply rooted in his Christian faith and carrying an unswavering positive outlook on life.

“My foundation for God came from my family who taught me,” he says. “My experience with God is a personal thing. I didn't get that in gospel music. I took it to gospel music when I went. I didn't get God in country music. I took him where I went. I just found God was already there.

“I want Him in my life and I don't put conditions on where He goes.”

Duane and me after our chat.

Early in the summer, I found out how to contact Duane Allen for an interview I have wanted to do for several years. When I did, I explained that I have a hearing impairment which would prevent a phone interview and that it should be face-to-face.

Instead of brushing me off, Allen replied, “John, I am going to do my best to make this happen.”

Several days later when my wife called the number Allen provided, it was apparent he already had done just that. The interview was already set up. To our surprise, he invited my wife to join us for the chat.

I asked Duane Allen why he did that for a Christian sports writer he had never met. “I very rarely do this before a show,” he said. “It is using my voice. I am paid to do a show. But I wanted to do this for you because I knew your physical condition you described. It made sense to me. We'll do it. Why not make that happen? So the way you make things happen, you go the extra mile.”

It's more than just being polite. It's being a Christian.

What happened to decency?

(Note: this is my column from the Aug. 21, 2013 edition of The Anderson News.)

Just when you think things can't go any lower, you realize they are.

In case you missed it, the state of California recently passed a law that allows student-athletes who identify themselves as transgender to choose which sex-segregated athletic teams they desire.

California Gov. Jerry Brown signed the bill into law last week.

Really. I am not making this up. I wish I were.

Athletics are not the only thing covered under the law as it allows transgender students to choose which school locker rooms and bathrooms to use.

Words cannot describe the insanity of such a law, which I first read about on the Schooled in Sports blog on the Education Week website.

The new California provision reads, “(f) A pupil shall be permitted to participate in sex-segregated school programs and activities, including athletic teams and competitions, and use facilities consistent with his or her gender identity, irrespective of the gender listed on the pupil’s records.”

Really, that law passed in California. It is set to go into effect Jan. 1, 2014.

Un. Be. Lieve. Able.

I have been getting paid to write about sports since 1985 and make no apologies that I am heavy on the games at the high school level. I thought I had seen it all until I read about this lunacy.

Thank goodness I live in Kentucky, where we are so “backward” I seriously doubt something this “progressive” would even get off the ground.

Let me say that over the years, I have seen female athletes who I believe could compete with males. That is especially true in non-contact sports, but I have seen girls' basketball players who I think could hold their own with the guys. Several years ago, a girl wrestler medaled at the Kentucky state wrestling tournament.

But let's face it. That is the exception rather than the norm. Usually, when the games are the same, the male version of sports are faster paced, more physical and played by bigger people than the female version. If you don't believe me, check out the world records in track and field, then let me know the result.

(Hint: Males usually run faster and jump higher.)

That being said, I could actually come around to girls playing boys' sports, even at the high school level. If a girl can slam dunk or run for a touchdown, so be it. Nothing should deny her the opportunity. The girl wrestler who medaled at the state tournament several years ago underscored this belief.

But playing on the field is much different than allowing someone to choose the locker rooms and bathrooms he will use.

During my writing career, I have been in many locker rooms. Guys are changing clothes, coming out of showers and the like. Over the last few years, I just began to usually wait outside the locker room to talk with a player. It just seems more professional and respectful.

And I am old-fashioned enough to believe the privacy of the locker room should not be violated.

Another Education Week blog, Rules for Engagement, pointed out that Massachusetts has a similar law and that school administrators are to talk with kids who are not comfortable with a transgender person sharing a locker room or rest room.

In other words, if common decency bothers you, you are the one with the problem.

Thankfully, this law is not even close to Kentucky. I doubt it would ever be passed in our state. At least not in my lifetime, it wouldn't. My only fear would be the federal government getting involved and mandating insanity for all 50 states.

From this corner, high school sports are wonderful educational tools. So many life lessons can be learned through sports, but insane political agendas need to be left on the sideline.

Better yet, keep them out of the arena all the time.

Children can teach all of us many lessons about racism

(This column, dealing with some of the racial issues in my hometown, appeared in the Aug. 14, 2013 edition of The Anderson News.)

 I recently had a very serious talk with my 12-year-old daughter.

We were driving to Louisville on U.S. 60, west of Simpsonville, when I pulled into what is now known as the Whitney Young Job Corps Center.

Fifty years ago, however, it was simply known as Lincoln Institute.

We didn't get out of the car, just drove around the campus while I told her how Lincoln Institute existed as a school for African-American children because most communities would not allow them to attend the local schools.

It was the price many good people paid simply because of the color of their skin.

With the simultaneous innocence and insight of a 12-year-old, my daughter simply said, “That's stupid.”

I am so glad she feels that way.

It was stupid. It was just plain wrong that Anderson County, like nearly every other locale south of the Ohio River – and many north of it – had separate schools for children with dark skin. However, many who attended Lincoln Institute believe their education was superior to the one the white children received.

I don't doubt that a bit.

Fifty years ago, however, Anderson County stopped sending young people to Lincoln Institute as Anderson High School integrated in the fall of 1963. Many other counties were doing the same thing at the same time and less than three years later, Lincoln Institute closed its doors as a high school.

I grew up in Anderson County and didn't start school until the fall of 1964, when I enrolled in first grade at Alton School. Every single kid in the entire school was white. I know I thought nothing about it because I did not know anything differently.

I was fortunate as child. It would be naïve to think I was raised with a strong understanding of race relations in an era when they were making the news nearly every day. White kids, like me, didn't know. We had not experienced discrimination, so we couldn't really know.

Still, I was blessed to be raised in a home that did not intentionally tolerate racism in an era when people were often denied service in a restaurant because of the color of their skin. My parents taught me to respect all people, regardless of color. And after being told I was not to use the “N-word,” I never tried to find out what my punishment would be if I did.

I'm thankful.

Yet, the older I got, the more I realized the Anderson County I called home was far more segregated than I ever realized. Was it blatant racism or the result of people unknowingly being products of the time in which they lived? Many of the ones that truly know have passed on, so we will never really know.

It probably doesn't matter. The shameful results were the same.

I never saw separate bathrooms or water fountains designated “white” and “colored,” but heard the latter term used so many times in reference to so many aspects of life, that I did not know it was hurtful as well.

I went to a school that was all-white and knew there was an elementary school on Lincoln Street for children who had different color skin than mine, even after the high school had integrated. That was just how it was.

But even as a little boy, I had become a sports fan who counted Cincinnati Reds center-fielder Vada Pinson as one of my heroes. I can remember thinking it was odd that kids who looked like him were treated differently than me.

I grew up in a town that had a swimming pool but an unwritten rule that African-Americans were not welcome. As a kid, I did not know things could be different.

But, like my daughter today, I thought it was stupid.

Thankfully, much has changed.

Lincoln Street School eventually closed in the 1960s, but the legacy of Mr. Coleman, a wonderful man who headed the school, has lived on in the lives of many of his students.

Three of my children graduated from Anderson County High School and counted many people of different races as their friends. They had African-American teachers, something that would have been unheard of 50 years ago.

It can't be denied that the world has developed a much better understanding of racial issues in the 50 years since Anderson High School first integrated. But it would be foolish for anyone, of any color, to think there is still not a huge gap to close.

As a sports writer, I long for the day when teams primarily made up of African-Americans are no longer referred to as “athletic,” while all-white teams are not automatically termed “intelligent.”

I looked forward to the day when someone who is not white could realistically have a chance to become President of the United States. I had hoped that person would have been Colin Powell, but that was not to be.

Now that someone who is not lily white has been elected as the leader of our country, I long for the day when people can disagree with policies – which I strongly do – and not be accused of doing so simply because of his skin color.

(Admittedly, it would be foolish to think racism is not at the root of some opposition and at some of the President's support as well. That is a different column for a different day.)

It's probably unrealistic to think we will ever live in a colorblind society. We are all shaped by our life experiences and perceptions which will affect us throughout our lives.

That doesn't mean, however, that a colorblind society is not a worthy goal.

Most of all, I long for the day when we all heed the words of Dr. Martin Luther King: "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

The games provide the best lessons on color

(Note: My column from the July 24, 2013 Anderson News)

Usually, they are just games. They're diversions from everyday life.

We leave our cares at the office, then behold Joey Votto's sweet swing or Brandon Phillips' wizardry at second base. We could be mesmerized by Magic Johnson running Showtime or Larry Bird just fundamentaling his opponent into submission. We marvel at the artistry of Adrian Peterson and the precision of Tom Brady.

But the alarm clock goes off and the sun comes up on Monday morning for us to get right back to what we had tried to escape.

However, sports are best when they teach life lessons.

And how we need some life lessons in our country today.

I really don't know what to make of the George Zimmerman-Trayvon Martin case. Like 99.999 percent of the people who have voiced an opinion on the controversial verdict in Sanford, Fla., I got my information from the national news.I was not in the courtroom hearing the evidence.

There were times I would read an account of the trial proceedings and think, “There is no way Zimmerman is innocent.” The next day or two, I would read a different report and think, “There is no way Zimmerman is guilty.”

I do know there were, and are, strong opinions on the case.

What I don't know is who is right. From the conglomeration of reportage, there was reasonable doubt in the cases both sides presented, which, of course, super-charged the tensions that were already there.

What I do know is that a jury of peers, agreed upon by attorneys from both sides, heard the evidence and found Zimmerman not guilty of the charges brought against him.

That is where the world of sports comes in.

What I truly believe is that sports gives a much greater lesson in resolving racial tension than any number of protests or celebrations of a truly unfortunate incident.

It is kind of ironic that the movie “42” came out on DVD about the same time of the Zimmerman verdict. The contrasts are striking.

While people around the country have been framing their interpretations based on race, the Hollywood version of Jackie Robinson breaking baseball's color barrier has a prominent scene depicting the story of Pee Wee Reese, the pride of racially-segregated Louisville, silencing the jeering and slurs directed at Robinson in Cincinnati's Crosley Field.

Reese, the Brooklyn Dodger shortstop, simply went to his teammate and put his arm around Robinson. Simple, yet powerful.

Legend says the incident happened in 1947, Robinson's first year as a big leaguer. Some say it most likely actually happened in 1948. Really, that doesn't matter. The message, “We are brothers,” is all that does.

Locally, I think of Anderson County's only state championship team at the high school level. Back in 1964, a group of young ladies, including two African-Americans, took the first girls' state track meet. The athletic accomplishments are often forgotten as the Kentucky High School Athletic Association did not take over the meet until two years later.

The lessons they learned were branded in their memory. The girls were confronted with the dilemma of eating in a restaurant where two teammates were not welcome because of the color of their skin. They chose to go hungry.

As one member of that team told me in an interview for a series nine years ago, “We were color blind.”

I am not naïve enough to think all people who participate in sports nearly 50 years later are color blind yet. For years, there was the ridiculous stereotype that an African-American male did not have what it takes to lead a team to a Super Bowl title. Thank you, Doug Williams for proving that wrong on the field. Thank you, Tony Dungy, for proving it wrong from the sidelines.

For years, a basketball player who can't jump has been said to have “White Man's Disease.” There are countless other racial stereotypes in sport and in life. All are wrong.

But more importantly, sports provide us with real teaching moments.

I know of no coach who fills out a lineup based on what color a player is. Produce and play within the framework of the team and you will play.

When someone goes to the line with the game tied and two seconds left, the only thing that matters is if someone can shoot free throws.

When a quarterback goes to make a handoff, all he cares about is getting the ball to the right man. When he's looking for a receiver in the end zone, he's not looking at the color of the hands that will cradle the touchdown pass.

Those are some real-life lessons of sport. In the game, the only color that matters is the hue of the jerseys. In real life, all that should matter is the clothing of one’s character.

In the games, players sweat together. They celebrate and cry with each other.

And people of all races need to learn sport's greatest lesson of all: When players bleed, it's all the same color.